La Douleur Exquise
by Thegreenconsultingdragonlord
Summary: David Karofsky hated a lot of things, but most of all he hated Kurt Hummel. One-shot.


**Warnings: Offensive, homophobic language. **

**A/N: I'm assuming this is a given, but just to be totally clear, none of the views expressed here are my own. That is, all the offensive homophobic stuff is not something I personally believe or agree with. **

**I have not written any Glee fics before, but I was re-watching season 2 for fun, and I was seized by an inexplicable desire to write something about Karofsky and his feelings for Kurt. And so yeah, I ended up writing this. I believe it to be s****et around the time of the 'Night of Neglect' episode, while Kurt is still at Dalton (right after he and Blaine started dating). **

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_**La Douleur Exquise**_

There were a lot of things David Karofsky didn't like.

He didn't like cats, for one. They were stuck up and obnoxious, and they did things according to their own terms. If they didn't feel like being petted they would ignore him or hiss at him, and he hated that. If he wanted to pet his freaking cat, he should be able to pet his freaking cat. He didn't like tea either. It was bitter and bland, and he couldn't stand it when he was sick and his mother forced him to drink it. He hated that eating cheetos made his fingers yellow and powdery, and the dank way Mckinley smelled when it rained.

But most of all he hated that Kurt Hummel.

He hated him more than he hated people who talked on their phones in movie theatres, or those working stiffs who took forever to place their order at Subway. He hated him more than he hated his French teacher.

He hated him more than he hated _French_, and that was saying something.

French was such a stupid language. The other day their teacher had taught them the phrase_ La Douleur Exquise_.

"What does it mean?" That nerd Artie Abrams had asked.

"There's no word for it in English, per say," Ms. Richards had said, "but essentially it describes the heart-wrenching pain of wanting someone you can't have."

It made no sense to David. When would he ever need to use that phrase? Never. Because French was a stupid, idiotic language and he hated that he had to learn it.

Kurt Hummel liked it. Of course he did, the queer. It's just the kind of stupid, frilly language a homo like him would like. Sometimes Dave would wonder if he was still taking French at Dalton Academy. He probably was. All the homos at that school probably took French and spoke the stupid language together while they sipped tea and lazed around on plump armchairs. He could imagine all of them hanging out, sounding like constipated farts. That certainly was the perfect school for Hummel.

Ugh, just thinking about him made Karofsky angry. He hated the way he looked. How over time that swoop of hair that used to fall across his forehead, making him look like a four year old boy, had been gelled up to make his bright, eager eyes more prominent. He hated the way his clothes had gotten tighter, clinging to his legs, showing off his arms. He hated the way he smiled, and the sound of his voice when he sang. He hated the way he got all the boys on the football team to dance to Beyoncé.

That was probably what David hated the most about him - the way he was constantly rubbing his dazzling uniqueness in everybody's face. No one else could have made all those boys dance to Beyoncé. No. Only Kurt Hummel could have done that.

Stupid Hummel. Always standing up for himself. Always standing up for others, too. Always standing up tall and being proud of who he was no matter how hard Dave and his friends shoved him into the lockers.

Admittedly, David missed him, just a little. He missed seeing that fear in his eyes when he shoved him hard against his locker. He liked seeing that fear. It made him feel strong and powerful.

Yes… that was it. He missed terrifying him.

He missed pushing his hands against that small body and feeling his chest and the thuds of his racing heartbeat beneath all those stupid layers he always wore. He missed hearing that crash as he shoved Kurt against his own locker, knowing that that crash meant the stupid photograph of Hummel's infuriating fairy boyfriend had been knocked down.

He hated Hummel's boyfriend too. He hated his freaking coiffed hair, and those large brown eyes that stared lovingly at Kurt from under those thick, black eyelashes. He hated that he had to see them holding hands. And smiling. Ugh, the smiling. He hated that stupid, freaking smile Kurt had every time he was around him.

Because he hated seeing Kurt happy.

_With him._

Who was he, anyway? To just waltz into Kurt's life and take him away to his dumb preppy school full of dancing fags in their ugly tight-fitting jackets. Who was he to come up to David and tell him that he wasn't alone? He didn't know him. He didn't know what his life was like.

Yes, Karofsky hated him. And he hated Hummel.

There were nights when he couldn't sleep because he couldn't help imagining the two of them together and he wished that they weren't together, because if they were together that meant that they were _happy _and he didn't want that. They didn't deserve happiness for being such fags and flaunting their gayness for everyone to see.

Hummel did that all the time. Flaunted his gayness. He wore those stupid outfits to school and went on about how 'proud' he was to be different. David hated it. He hated how it made him feel. He hated how his heart would beat thunderously in his chest whenever he was near. He hated that he couldn't stop thinking about how soft his lips were, and how they tasted of apple lip gloss. He hated apples, and he hated the smell of Hummel's hair, and he hated how he had pushed him away when he had tried to kiss him again. He couldn't forget the look of pure disgust and horror in his eyes, and the way he had called him 'hamhock' and 'chubby' and _not his type. _

He couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand any of it.

He especially couldn't stand the idea that _Blaine _got to kiss those lips on a regular basis, and that _Blaine_ could wrap his arms around that waist any time he wanted, and that _Blaine _could run his fingers through that hair, and kiss that pale, slender neck, and make Kurt moan with pleasure.

He couldn't stand the way he couldn't stop thinking about him, and the sickly way his stomach had churned when he came back from his suspension and heard that Kurt had moved. He hated the way his heart had jumped, just a few days ago, when he was in the gym and Josh had walked in and said, "Hey Karofsky, guess who I just saw in the hall…"

He hated the way he knew exactly who it was even before Josh said "It's your old pal… ladyboy."

He hated the way his brain had gone on overdrive, and the way he had raced down the corridor only to see him standing there with that stupid curly-haired, big-eyed rodent of a boyfriend.

He hated that he was stuck in this stupid mould, pretending to be something he wasn't and he hated that Hummel wasn't stuck in that mould with him. No, Fancy was off being queer with that stupid gorgeous boyfriend of his. And Karofsky hated that he could never look like Blaine, and that he would never be able to sing or dance like Blaine, and the fact that he sure as hell wouldn't ever be able kiss Hummel ever again, not after everything he had put him though.

Yes, Karofsky hated a lot of things.

But he didn't hate any of them the way he hated Kurt Hummel.


End file.
